


Fight Club...?

by racie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Unsafe Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racie/pseuds/racie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when tensions run too high and Yahaba snaps again? Not something he's entirely comfortable with, if he's honest. But Kyoutani did ask to make sure.</p><p>- Written for the Haikyuu Kink Meme <a href="http://hqkink.dreamwidth.org/1761.html?thread=87009#cmt87009">[link]</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Club...?

Kyoutani's fist slams into Yahaba's jaw, and red blooms across Yahaba's vision. That's the thing with Kyoutani, he doesn't pull his fucking punches. The skin on the inside of his cheek is broken, from the copper taste that spreads over his tongue. Yahaba sways back out of Kyoutani's reach, viciously glad he can see pain in some of his expression, from at least one of his smaller hits.  
  
They're out the back of the gym, alone because everyone else took the sensible route of  _going home_. The autumn air is cool around them but Yahaba's face is hot, so is his temper, his nerves and his blood, which is mixed with his saliva. He spits it in a wad towards Kyoutani. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand with a sneer, keeping his chin up, to remind Kyoutani that he's got just enough height on him to make a difference, even if Kyoutani is built like a cement truck shat him out.  
  
Yahaba has fucking had it, if he's honest. He's spent too much time pulling Kyoutani into line, keeping his damn temper when all he wanted to do was get close to him again, bash the shit out of him again. Which, he guesses, is why when Kyoutani asked  _what now?_  after practice was over and he shrugged without giving him a real answer and they found themselves so alone, Yahaba kicked him in the shin.  
  
The kick hadn't been hard, he used to do karate with his brothers when he was little and he knows how to make it count - though his muscles are in the wrong places now, used to different exercises - but he only gave him a tap. Kyoutani had glared, which is the same as a smile from him, and lunged forward.  
  
From there, it was a brawl. Yahaba's old training didn't come back to him as such, but there were one or two tricks he managed to pull over on Kyoutani and the blow to his jaw was the first one to really  _land_.  
  
They circle each other, Kyoutani taking each step like it's a personal insult and Yahaba trying to keep his weight forward and centred like he's supposed to. He licks his lips and they come back tasting like blood. _Everything_  tastes like blood.  
  
"C'mon, mad dog, what will it take for you to dance with me?" Yahaba asks. He keeps a smirk playing across his lips even though he's seething inside - he's wearing his fucking uniform and if he rips it there'll be hell to pay because it's supposed to go to his little brother in two years and he won't be able to wear it if it gets ripped up by this asshole.  
  
"Like you can dance," Kyoutani says, taking a final step around and lunging before Yahaba can really register that he moved - one second he was there, the next his entire weight is on top of Yahaba and he's pinning him into the grass. His forearm presses against Yahaba's throat while his other hand has a lock on one of Yahaba's wrists. Kyoutani puts heft into his position and grins now, like he's actually achieved something.  
  
Yahaba can swallow, but only barely, and the sooner he gets out of this position the better. He rocks his hips up and claws at Kyoutani's arm at his throat. Kyoutani doesn't budge.   
  
Though, from his expression, it's like he doesn't know what do do now he's got Yahaba down on the ground.  
  
Yahaba bucks again and manages to get his fingers around Kyoutani's pinky enough to bend it back and breathe again. He pauses in the middle of his gasping, that was... that was too easy. And when he opens his eyes from squinting Kyoutani's sporting the glare that means he's trying to think.   
  
"What?" Yahaba wheezes out as his blood quietens from rushing through his ears.  
  
"You're hard," Kyoutani all but spits the words out. It's more like a growl really, a rumble. Yahaba's mind offers up a dozen other descriptors for how Kyoutani said those words, so he doesn't have to process what those words actually were.  
  
Kyoutani doesn't move and Yahaba realises that there's no way he's getting out from under him without answering that question. "You're not supposed to mention it, idiot." He squirms, now more aware than he's ever been before of his boner. "You are too," he says out of spite. He's already brawling with Kyoutani, might as well sink entirely down to his level.  
  
Once again, Kyoutani moves without Yahaba being able to follow it - the fucker is  _fast_ , which Yahaba should have remembered from how he is on the court - and Kyoutani's lips press to his. They're on his and  _gentle_ , more gentle than he'd have thought Kyoutani was capable of being. Yahaba isn't sure whether it's because he's too surprised, or too disgusted, or because this is his first kiss with him and his heart is doing something funny where it's wedged up in his throat and hammering so hard he can't breathe again, but he does his best to kiss back, just as gently.   
  
Seconds pass and Yahaba reaches up to get his fingers into Kyoutani's hair, running them over the dents where he's shaved it down and bumps where it's still curling.   
  
Something breaks, probably the tenuous strain of Yahaba's patience, because hot off adrenaline, his dick already straining through his uniform's trousers, he doesn't want what this is. So Yahaba takes what he wants, yanking Kyoutani to kiss him without gentleness, making sure their lips will bruise later. Kyoutani makes enough of a sound that his lips part and Yahaba can lick his tongue into his mouth. His nose scrunches, Kyoutani doesn't taste like anything much, but there's something there, maybe an undercurrent from the previous taste of blood, that makes Yahaba's lips twist and want more.  
  
Yahaba breathes heavily out his nose and he can feel Kyoutani doing the same, hell knows what he's getting out of this, but he's not backing off or going away and all of those thoughts are making Yahaba's dick harder. He draws back, just a little, so their noses are still brushing against each other and he can see the delicate changes in colour in Kyoutani's eyes underneath his long lashes. "How far are we going with this?" he asks, because if it's not much further they need to cut it off  _now_  so Yahaba can cool down, get the thoughts he's having about Kyoutani clawing at his back as they come out of his head.  
  
It takes a moment for Kyoutani to reply, and because his face works differently to the way other people's do, Yahaba turns away so he doesn't read into it something that Kyoutani doesn't mean.  
  
Kyoutani's voice is rough as he replies, breathing shaky, "Figured we could go the whole way, if you wanted."  
  
What's surprising is that Kyoutani has a thought in his head. Yahaba feels bad for thinking that, but- he inwardly retracts the 'but'. He does mostly feel bad. He manages a reply though, his voice coming out less confident than he'd like, "Yeah, okay."  
  
They take the time to gather themselves and their things back to the locker rooms at Yahaba's insistence, and he thinks he sees a touch of relief in the set of Kyoutani's shoulders, though it's hard to say.   
  
As soon as they get inside, Yahaba presses back to Kyoutani, lips on his neck this time, because he's not letting Kyoutani take all the initiative, and he wants to see if the rest of Kyoutani tastes like his mouth.  
  
Kyoutani says something, but Yahaba's too busy working his hands up under Kyoutani's uniform to listen. Kyoutani stills under Yahaba's mouth and repeats himself, this time Yahaba makes himself listen. "Can I touch you?" he asks. He sounds meek - for Kyoutani, anyway.  
  
_For fuck's-_  
  
"Do whatever the hell you'd like to me, Kentarou," he snaps out, before he can consider what that really means.  
  
Thankfully, Kyoutani doesn't dwell on it and takes him at his word. He hoists him up and presses him back down on the benches, letting him hook his legs around him. Yahaba fumbles at the clasp of his trousers, managing to get his ass into the open air so it's resting back against the wood of the benches. Kyoutani stops, for a second, and Yahaba sees his eyes flick down before he's pulling his own clothes off and dropping them on the floor.  
  
Yahaba catches his lip between his teeth as he takes Kyoutani in. Anyone can tell that Kyoutani has muscle, but it's another thing to see all of his skin that there is to see, and yeah, Yahaba had his fingers on it and his mouth on his neck as well, but it's different when he's standing there in front of him, chest shifting with each heavy breath.  
  
"You're hot, you know," Yahaba says, he's smiling again, smirking, really. "So, come on. Fuck me."  
  
Kyoutani's expression flickers, but he makes the right choice, and licks over his fingers in a gesture that makes Yahaba's breath hitch, then presses one up between his cheeks and inside him.  
  
The feeling is strange, but Kyoutani takes it slow, which Yahaba would object to if it wasn't the kind of strange that quickly turns into hurting really fucking fast if it was anything other than slow. Eventually, he gets used to it, and pushes down, until Kyoutani adds another finger, presses in further and deeper. He takes this one faster and Kyoutani hits what can only be his prostate. Yahaba gasps.  
  
"Touch my dick, Kentarou." He says it before he can think about it too hard. But it's what he wants, and Kyoutani obeys, wrapping his fingers - thicker and a little shorter than Yahaba's - around his dick.  
  
Kyoutani's fingers are what he focuses on as he presses into him, for a first time they really haven't prepared enough, but the inside of his mouth aches and his dick is so hard it's throbbing and the pain feels  _right_.  
  
Yahaba catches Kyoutani say something that sounds an awful lot like  _you're kind of needy_  but Yahaba stops that by working out how he can move his hips so that Kyoutani moans in a growling sound and returns the movement with his own buck of his hips.  
  
Kyoutani fucks him while Yahaba draws red lines across his back with his nails, he moves his hand to his own dick and pumps it while Kyoutani's busy forcing Yahaba's hips down in time to his thrusts.  
  
It feels... Fucking painful, if he's honest, but the good kind of pain. He'll feel it tomorrow, he's sure, but for now he just wants to move. He lets out small sounds, gasps, moans, whatever his throat feels like doing as he works himself on Kyoutani's dick. They build the pace, Yahaba shifting his hips, trying to find the best angle, catching his lip between his teeth again.  
  
Kyoutani pulls him up by the back of his neck as his back arches, captures his lips in a kiss, not as gentle as their first one, but more gentle than their others and it sets Yahaba's heart lurching even as that's the tipping point for him coming all over the both of them.  
  
Kyoutani doesn't slow, and once his mind comes back from his orgasm, Yahaba encourages him, rolling his hips up, kissing him roughly again, muttering words he can't really space into distinct thoughts but get he gets mutters back anyway.  
  
Kyoutani comes to a chiding call of, "Kentarou, you're leaving me hanging," that has entirely more warmth in it than Yahaba is comfortable with.  
  
Yahaba can't begin to imagine how they'll deal with this tomorrow, once their bruises have bloomed, they ache all over and he's still getting a fluttering feeling when he looks at Kyoutani.  
  
They both sag down, Kyoutani curling against him like nothing more than a sweaty dog.   
  
"Still hate you, you know," Yahaba says, even though he doesn't.


End file.
